


do it now

by PillowLord



Series: a flicker of peace that i've finally found [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alive Cole Anderson, Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-17 23:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PillowLord/pseuds/PillowLord
Summary: Connor and his younger brother Jon are Hank’s new neighbors. His curiosity brings him and Cole fast and close within their orbit. Hank offers to help Connor which leads to an unexpected friendship between the two men. The aggravation of having no leads on the new vigilante is offset by Connor’s presence in his life.





	do it now

**Author's Note:**

> Art was done by the lovely Gav (gavimp.tumblr.com)!! Link to art: http://gavimp.tumblr.com/post/182373906386/finally-is-time-for-this-major-hankcon-big-bang

There is a house on the corner of the street that has been sitting empty for years. The for-sale sign has long been taken down. No one takes care of it. Nature has reclaimed it. Ivy creeps along its walls. Grass grows tall. Weeds sprout in the cracks of once smooth pavement that leads up to the house. 

It is a surprise then, when there are moving trucks parked right outside it one Saturday. The view brings the neighborhood to a buzz. No real estate agent has brought anyone there. No person has ever checked on it. How can someone buy a house they have never seen? 

Hank tries to ignore the whispers. What some fool does is no concern to him. And yet. He is suspicious. He tries to quell it and mind his own business unlike some people. 

He reasons to himself: the new owner is probably going to flip the house. He snorts. One: the new owner seems to be moving in. Two: nobody can afford a flipped house in this economy. The house is cheap but to repair it to more presentable conditions would make it expensive. The person would have better luck just buying a more conventional house if they wanted something cheap. Too many contradictions. None of it makes sense. 

Curiosity wins out. He calls over Cole and Sumo from their play in the front of the house. Cole runs to him and Sumo ambles. 

“What’s up, Dad?” Cole asks. 

“Come on, we’re going to greet the new neighbors.” 

Cole nods and follows him. Together, they walk up to the house. There is only one man moving the boxes. He is tall and broad and covered with freckles. On his temple, there is a circular scar. His thick brown hair is tamed with gel, yet a curl still escapes it. With him, there is a young boy assisting him. The boy looks like a mini version of the man; the only difference being the boy’s eyes are a steely gray-blue instead of a warm brown. The man stops what he’s doing and greets them with a smile. 

“Hello, my name is Connor,” Connor places his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “And this is my younger brother, Jon.” 

Hank’s eyebrows rise. Not his parent? Connor and Jon have been the only two moving boxes all morning. He at least has enough tact to not ask clarification. Hank looks down at Jon. Jon does not smile. He crosses his arms and stares blankly at them. Connor gives Jon a light shove. Jon’s lips twitch in a corner, a facsimile of a smile. The kid’s uncomfortable. Shy. Cole still returns a sunny smile to the other boy. 

“I’m Cole, and this is my dad, and this is Sumo,” Cole slings his arm over Sumo’s neck. 

“Hank.” He extends his hand out which Connor had thankfully taken. 

Connor then kneels to eye level with Cole and Sumo, and with great solemnness announces: “I like dogs.” 

Hank bursts out into laughter. Jon groans. 

Cole smile gets even bigger to Connor’s statement. “You can pet Sumo if you want! He’s super friendly.” 

Connor tentatively reaches out. His hand moves gently atop Sumo’s head. His fingers card through Sumo’s fur. Jon moves closer but does not make the move to pet. 

“Do you need help moving the rest of your stuff?” Hank asks. 

“That would be great! Thank you,” Connor looks up as he says it. He speaks so earnestly. Hank was expecting some hesitance. Seems like Connor needs more help than from just a nine-year-old. He gets up and brushes off his knees. 

Cole coaxes Jon to play with him and Sumo. Hank and Connor watch the two boys and the dog. Hank turns towards Connor. He seems lost. There is a slight furrow to his brow and his lips are pinched. Hank wants to remove that look from his face. He wants to see Connor’s dimpled smile again. Which is frankly ridiculous. 

Hank clears his throat before that thought can go any further. “Looks like it’s just you and me to unpack.” 

They go to the moving truck and pick up boxes. Hank peers inside his. Children’s clothes, all second hand. They were well-loved for its colors are faded. Many of them were a darker color that has faded to gray. Hank resists the urge to feel the clothes. He doesn’t need to touch to know its threadbare. 

“It’s good to see Jon get along with Cole,” Connor says, “Jon usually has some trouble.” 

Hank shifts. Small talk is his weakness. He really should’ve figured that it would happen if he was going to bother the new guy. “Well, kids can always do for more friends.” 

“Yes.” And that is the end of that. 

They work in silence, going back and forth to bring the boxes in. There is not much anyway and together they make quick work of it. 

Connor is the one to speak first again. “Would you and Cole like to stay over for dinner? I hear it is customary after someone helps you move.” 

Hank stares incredulously at Connor. The man sounds like a robot. “Kid, I don’t think you have anything to cook.” 

“I can buy pizza?” 

Hank laughs and slaps his back. “Sure, let’s get pizza.” 

Connor takes out his cell phone to make the order for delivery. Hank ushers the kids and the dog inside. His hands slide across the wall, reaching for a light switch. He turns on the light. The room takes on a yellow hue. The boxes he and Connor spent the afternoon bringing in crowd a corner of the living room nearest to the front door. No furniture. Right. Jon and Cole are rummaging through some of the boxes. Cole makes a triumphant noise. 

“We can sit on these!” Cole says as he pulls out a throw pillow. 

Connor walks in when Cole and Jon dump the box of all the throw pillows. There are at least ten pillows of various shapes and sizes. Hank stares. Why do they need these many pillows? They don’t even have a couch. He thinks this state of constant bewilderment is going to be an ongoing pattern. 

“They were gifts!” Connor answers, sounding highly defensive. Whoops did he ask out loud? 

The boys decide it is important to create some set up for them to eat on later. They arrange the pillows under their direction into a shape that vaguely resembles a circle. Cole and Jon flop down. Cole lays on his stomach, his head resting on his wrists. Jon sits beside him, his legs stretched out towards the center of the circles, and his arms propping him up. Connor has taken to petting Sumo again. 

“So, what do you do?” Hank takes the initiative this time. 

“I’m a librarian. Monday is when I start at the branch near the elementary school. How about you?” 

“I’m,” he’s interrupted by the doorbell. 

Connor rushes to answer the door and comes back with a box of pizza and paper plates. He sets it down in the middle of the circle. Hank lowers himself carefully. He can already feel the pain he’s going to get from sitting on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he notices the stiches on the pillows are uneven and vary in size — handmade with clumsy hands. Connor crosses his legs next to him. 

In-between bites, Cole regales him and Connor of what he and Jon did. He gestures, occasionally spilling some crumbs. Jon makes a few interjections as well. His voice has a flat intonation that makes him sound deeply unimpressed with everything. The boy sounds posh, for a lack of a better descriptor. Each word said is carefully enunciated. Hank nods every so often to show he is paying attention. He looks at Connor from the corner of his eye. He is entranced, taking in every word spoken like it’s a gift. Cole eats up Connor’s attention with gusto. 

Between the four of them, they finish the pizza. They clean up, gathering the plates and box for garbage. Jon brings out a deck of cards. For once, his stern exterior is more vulnerable. 

“Can we play a quick game before you go?” Jon looks at Cole, his eyes darting to Hank. 

Cole turns to him with pleading eyes. “Fine. One game.” 

Turns out the one game has multiple rounds. The game stretches on. In the end, Jon wins the game. They stay about an hour or so for the game and then he, Cole, and Sumo are at the door. 

“It was nice to meet you. And thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem.” Hank fumbles a bit about what to say and settles for, “Well I’ll see you around I guess.” 

He waves and guides Cole and Sumo back home. 

With nonchalance, Hank asks, “What do you think of our new neighbors, kiddo?” 

“Connor is really nice! And Jon is pretty cool. He knows martial arts like,” Cole pauses, his face scrunching up a bit, “a-a-kid-o.” 

“Huh. That is pretty cool.” He ruffles Cole’s hair. 

“Daaaaad!” He pushes Hank’s hand away and pouts. “They seem lonely.” 

Hank startles at the abrupt change in mood. “What do you mean?” 

“They just are,” Coles nods to himself. “We should change that.” 

~

On Sunday, Hank glances outside his window. Connor has just put down the weed cutter. The once waist high grass is at a more manageable height to cut with a lawn mower. Large paper bags line the yard, filled to varying degrees. 

Connor takes his outer layer clothing off. He uses his sleeve to wipe his forehead. His shirt does little to hide the body underneath. It sticks with sweat on him. Hank gulps. There is only so much curiosity can excuse. 

He really ought to stop watching. 

Connor lifts the weed cutter and heads out of view from the window. Takes the decision right out of his hands. Hanks sighs a in relief. He is startled, then, when a few minutes later, there are three decisive knocks on his door and the call of “Hank!” 

He opens his door to Connor, who is no longer holding the weed cutter. “Hello Hank. May I borrow your lawnmower?” 

“How do you know I have one?” Hank leans against his doorway and crosses his arms. 

“I borrowed the weed cutter from Kara,” Connor rubs his hands together and avoids Hank’s eyes. “She currently doesn’t have a working lawnmower but told me that you did.” 

“Of course, she did,” Hank pushes himself up and straightens. “Come on then.” 

Connor moves aside for him and follows him to his garage. He lifts the garage door open. Hank gives the lawnmower to him. Connor shifts side to side. 

“Can I have your number?” Connor pulls out his phone, “Just in case I need help.” 

“Sure, why not.” Hank accepts the phone and inputs his number. 

“Thank you.” 

_ >Hello, it’s Connor. _ Hank saves the number. 

Hank avoids looking out the window for the rest of the day. 

~

Monday begins like any other day. He goes through his routine. Get up. Get ready. Prepare breakfast for Cole and Sumo. Take Cole to school. Go to work. Do some work. Ignore Reed. Unfortunately, it is easier said than done. 

They have gathered in the small break room. It is a tight fit there between Ben, Jake, Chris, Reed, Chen, and Hank. Nonetheless, that particular break room has the best coffee and makes the uncomfortable space worth going to. The machine is a finnicky thing. Old and temperamental, it takes several tries to get the coffee machine to work. They wait around it as it sputters to life. 

“Jake, how’s your husband doing?” Ben asks. 

“Matt’s going to be in the hospital for one more day. He’s quite sick of it. I already asked Fowler for a day off tomorrow.” 

Reed pushes his way into the conversation. “Did other Wilson tell you anything more about what happened?” 

“Have some fucking tact man.” Hank puts his hands on his waist. 

“C’mon though. It’s been weeks.” 

“Jesus Reed!” 

“A vigilante?” He wheedles. “Give us the goods, man.” 

Jake interrupts them before they go any further and have another disciplinary warning in their files. “Look. All I know is what Matt said in his report,” he rubs at his temples. “And I’m grateful that a good Samaritan saved Matt.” 

The coffee machine begins to drip into the pot. A constant rhythm in the background. Ben pretends to not be interested in the conversation, examining the coffee pot intently. Chris inches his way out of the crowded breakroom. Chen is facing a brown water stain on the ceiling tile. Reed does not take the hint. 

“Some man in spandex thinks he can do our job better than us?” Reed sneers. “You guys are okay with this?” 

Nobody responds for a moment. 

Jake starts slowly and carefully. “Calling the man a vigilante is a bit far. All he’s done so far is intervene after Matt got shot.” 

Finally, able to read the room, Reed leaves it at that. They wait five more minutes for the coffee pot to fill a good enough amount. Jake gets the first cup for dealing with Reed. From there, it is a free for all to get the coffee pot next without dropping it. Ben and Chris are smart enough to just wait. Hank makes a few half-hearted attempts. Chen and Reed squabble like cats and dogs for a cup of coffee. They go back to their desks once they each got their cup. They already spent too much time waiting for the coffee machine to work. 

Hank is able to avoid Reed for the rest of the day. He finishes some reports before heading to the library. His current shift has him depart from work at 5. Unfortunately, that is an hour and half after school ends for Cole. Cole has taken to going to the library after school rather than going on a bus home. It shouldn’t have surprised him that sitting at a table with Cole is Connor and Jon. Connor works at the library, Hank remembers rather belatedly. 

“Hello Hank,” Connor goes on to explain, “My shift ended earlier but I thought it would be prudent for me to wait with Cole for you.” 

“Ah. Um. That’s,” Hank stumbles in both words and movement before steadying himself. “Thanks.” 

Connor nods in acknowledgement. Cole packs his folders in his bag. Jon gathers his books off the table. He brings them to the front desk to return. They all leave the library together. Connor and Jon walk out of the parking lot. Hank does a light jog to catch up with them. 

“Wait,” he yells, trying to get their attention. “You walk home?” 

“Yes?” Connor rubs his hands together. 

“I can just drive you home,” he offers. “Instead of going on a thirty-minute walk in the dark.” 

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.” 

So now is the time the man hesitates. Hank rebuts: “It’s the least I can do since you stayed with my kid.” 

Connor ducks his head down but agrees. They get in his car. Hank turns on the radio. 

He turns around to back up his car. “How was your day, kiddo?” 

“Today was so cool!” Hank can feel more than see Cole leaning forward between the seats. “For science today, we got to dissect owl pellets! And then we had to glue the bones on paper. It was kinda like a puzzle to figure out how the bones are supposed to be.” 

“Aw man that sounds gross.” He says with exaggerated disgust. 

“It was!” 

“How was your day Jon?” Connor asks, a strange parrot of the question Hank asked to Cole. 

“It was adequate.” Hank raises his eyebrows at that. 

Cole deciding the answer is over, then engages Jon in a conversation about what sounds like pirates. Jon’s responses are too quiet for Hank to hear. 

“Thank you again,” Connor’s voice had a note of nervousness to it, “I feel like I’m in debt to you. First the lawnmower and now this.” 

“You already returned it,” he waves it off. “That’s the important thing.” 

“Why would I not?” Connor tilts his head. 

“Exactly! No harm done,” Hank taps on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change, “And besides, you made sure Cole was okay. You could have just left.” 

“No, I couldn’t.” 

“You know,” Hank starts, “We can carpool together. I’m already dropping and picking up Cole.” 

“Are you sure?” Connor asks. 

“Yeah, I’m offering.” Hank resists the urge to look at Connor. Eyes on the road, Anderson. 

“I would love to then.” Hank can hear the delight in his voice. 

The drive is rather short compared to walking home. Connor offers his hand to Jon. Jon reluctantly accepts as he stares over his shoulder at them. Cole waves at him and Jon raises his free hand. Connor and Jon cross the street to their own house. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, Hank and Cole walk back to their own home. Hank is shifting around for keys in his pockets when Cole pulls something out of his own. 

“Look what I made!” In his grip is a slightly rumpled scratch paper. The drawing was of a colorful dog. 

Hank stops searching for his keys for a moment. “Where did you get that? School?” 

“Nope! Connor gave it to me,” he stuffs it back in his pocket and Hank finally finds his keys. 

“Did you do your homework first?” He jabs his keys in and unlocks the door. Sumo bounds up to them. Cole gives him some pats before going inside. 

“Of course,” Cole turns to him offended. “In fact! Connor helped me with reading homework. When we finished all our homework, he gave me and Jon the sheets.” 

“He didn’t give you all the answers, did he?” Hank walks into the kitchen. 

“No,” Cole stretches the last letter out. He sits on the couch and turns on the television. 

Hank digs through the fridge and freezer to get his ingredients. He would rather get take-out given how tired he is. Nonetheless, he has to keep Cole healthy and he can’t do that with a constant diet of take-out. He goes simple with grilled chicken, peas, and pasta. 

“Can you walk Sumo?” He shouts. 

“Okay,” Cole says, equally as loud from the living room. 

Hank sticks his head out from the kitchen, “Stay within the block.” 

“Fine,” Cole drawls. “Do you know where the leash is?” 

“Should be on the couch.” 

“It’s not there! Wait, never mind. Found it!” 

Hank hears the door slam shut. 

~

Hank hears a distinct knock and call of “Hank!” He opens the door to Connor and Jon. 

“Want to wait inside?” Hank gestures, “Cole’s finishing up breakfast.” 

“That would be acceptable.” Sumo comes up to greet them. Connor rubs the dog behind his ears. They maneuver their way with Sumo and come in. 

Jon grips both bag straps as he looks around. Hank can feel his face heat up with a sudden feeling of embarrassment. A pile of laundry is unfolded on the couch. Cole’s toys are scattered on the floor. Paperwork is placed haphazardly around any flat surface. There is dog hair everywhere. While he tries to contain eating to the kitchen or dining room, sometimes they bring snacks into the living room. Crumbs line the crook and crannies of the house. Hank does not even know when was the last time he touched a vacuum. He should have thought more about having them come inside. 

Connor takes in the sight with wide eyes. Sumo follows after him, Connor petting him occasionally. Hank watches him walk around and inspect each part of the living room. It is almost endearing to see Connor’s curiosity. Nonetheless, he shifts uncomfortably. It is strange for someone to dissect your life outside of an investigation. Jon stays still in the middle of the hallway, only turning his head to glance at his surroundings. He is motionless. 

The contrast between Connor’s constant need to move and Jon’s stock-still stature is startling. There seems to be a disconnect between the two. Not just in the way they act. But also in how they reach out to each other. Like they don’t quite know how to. There is no sense of familiarity that is there with time. Hank gets the feeling that they were not raised together. Maybe that’s why…

Cole takes that moment to appear, disrupting Hank’s thoughts. He picks his bag from the floors and slings it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, let’s go!” Cole grabs Jon’s hand and rushes to the door. Connor gives the room one last look before following. Hank shakes his head and locks the door. 

They settle in the car. Connor plays a bit with the radio, changing it from metal to pop to jazz. Hank smacks his hand from the dial. Despite his excitement earlier, Cole is drowsy in the morning. The only sound in the car is the faint tune of jazz. Hank stops at the drop off area. The kids stumble out of the car and race to the school building. 

Connor opens the car door. Hank grabs his wrist. Connor turns to him in askance. Hank can’t meet his eyes when he says, “I can take you to the library.” 

“You’ll be late.” 

“There’s time,” Hank shrugs. “And five minutes isn’t that big of a deal.” 

Connor settles back into the car. He pulls out a coin from his pocket and starts flipping it across his knuckles. Hank watches, fascinated. 

“You better start driving if you want the delay to be only five minutes.” Amusement colors Connor’s voice. He tucks the coin away. 

Hank snaps out of his stupor. “Right. Of course.” 

He takes him to the library. Connor waves and departs from the car. Hank slides his hand over his face. He can feel the heat of his cheeks. He takes a breath. Then he heads to work. 

Things are hectic there to say the least. At the entrance, there is a crowd of reporters and journalists. He pushes his way through. Dread pools his stomach. It is going to be one of those sort of days. When Hank finally makes it inside, he can see it is no better. Everyone is scurrying. The bullpen buzzes with energy that is unusual for the morning. 

Hank bumps into Ben. He pulls him aside by his arm. “What the fuck happened, Ben?” 

“Looks like Detective Reed is right. We got some vigilante on our hands.” Ben hooks his thumbs in his belt loops. 

“What.” Hank crosses his arms. 

“Dropped off some suspects, tied with a neat little bow and notes taped on their foreheads,” Ben smile is tight-lipped. “Nobody actually saw them so we don’t know their gender or age or any identifying features.” 

Hank groans. 

The day is spent processing the suspects, securing evidence, and straining his eyes staring at security camera footage. Nobody is able to get to do any substantial interviewing beyond a pretty basic questioning. He is not looking forward to tomorrow. 

Lucky Wilsons. They get to avoid this mess for now. 

Hank is haggard attempting to assist in cleaning up the mess the vigilante has left. He refuses to work overtime for that. Hank has a feeling who Fowler is going to assign this mess to. He would rather not start earlier than he needs to. He leaves exactly at five. 

Sitting at the curb of the library are the kids and Connor. Connor seems to take in Hank’s tired appearance. Connor stands and squares his shoulders. “Would you and Cole like to join us for dinner?” 

Hank needs time to process the statement. He blinks several times in confusion. “What?” 

Connor speaks slower and with great patience, repeats himself. “Would you and Cole like to join us for dinner?” 

“Why?” 

“You look tired,” Connor continues before Hank can interrupt, “and, really it is no problem for me. Jon enjoys Cole’s presence.” 

“You mean you enjoy my presence.” Hank teases and immediately regrets. Cole’s words suddenly come to him. They seem lonely. Get your act together, Anderson. Don’t needle the cute neighbor about his loneliness. 

“Well – yes I do,” Connor blushes but redirects the conversation. “So. Dinner?” 

“Okay,” Hank gives in. 

Once he has more of a bearing, Hank wants to smack his head on the steering wheel. 

Connor turns around to face Cole and Jon. “Would you like to tell your father about your day?” 

Cole launches in a disconnected tale of his day. He goes back and forth between detailing the events of recess and science period. Once he is done, Connor asks Jon about his day. 

Jon rolls his eyes. “I already told you at the library.” 

“It doesn’t hurt to tell Hank,” Connor says in a mildly chiding tone. 

With his usual bored tone, Jon also spoke of his day, focusing on his first day of art period. 

“Wouldn’t you have had art yesterday too?” Connor’s eyebrows scrunch together, forming an upside-down v. 

“Art, music, and Spanish class rotate!” Cole interjects. “We had Spanish yesterday, art today, music is tomorrow.” 

They get out of the car. Cole and Jon go up the much cleaner walkway up to Connor’s house. Hank browses at the yard in appreciation. Connor had accomplished much that past Sunday in making the house more presentable. In contrast, the interior of the house is very much the same as last time he was there. The pile of pillows is on the floor. Nothing else seems to be unpacked yet. The kids settle on the pillows and Jon pulls out the cards again. Hank follows Connor into the kitchen. 

“Do you or Cole have any dietary restrictions?” 

“Ah. Uh. No.” Smooth. 

Connor nods and opens the fridge. He stacks various items on the counter. Hank leans on the doorway, watching. 

“I was thinking,” Connor starts. “Maybe we can make dinner a daily thing? And breakfast too. It’ll be more convenient. For the both of us, I mean.” 

That is a leap from one dinner to daily dinners and breakfasts. Hank wonders when Connor started thinking about this. They have known each other for a grand total of four days. Hank wants to balk at the idea. Yet just yesterday, he was bemoaning about the thought of having to make dinner after work. 

“But then you have to buy extra groceries.” Hank doesn’t quite decline but doesn’t quite acquiesce. 

“You pay for gas,” Connor counters. “It’s about the same.” 

Hank snorts. “I think you severely underestimate the cost for groceries.” 

Connor faces Hank, his hands on his hips. “How about we split the costs of gas and groceries?” 

“Or, how about you pay for gas and I pay groceries?” Hank further explains, “The labor for cooking is more than driving.” 

Connor frowns. He lowers his confrontational stance and looks away. “That would be acceptable.” 

Hank stays at the doorway, unsure of what to do, while Connor makes a stir-fry with noodles. Hank helps him plate the food and bring it out to the boys. They sit on the pillows again. Hank wants to push Connor to buy actual furniture, but he has enough sense to realize it is none of his business. Cole and Jon continue playing some card game and eat at the same time. So focused in the game, they do not notice when they finish eating. Hank lifts their plates and goes to the sink. He washes the dishes. Connor stands beside him, drying and putting them away. 

“Look. I know we made a deal,” Hank wants to stop talking but his mouth continues in spite of his wishes. “But there’s no chairs or tables.” 

“Are you volunteering your house?” Connor’s mouth has a playful slant to them. 

Hank sputters. 

Connor tilts his head. 

“Fine!” Hank lifts his hands, one holding a soapy plate, the other a sponge. Water drips down his arms. Exasperated, he lets out: “Yeah, let’s do it at my home.” 

~

Hank spots them from the window before they reach the door. Connor and Jon come just a bit earlier than they did yesterday. He yanks it open without Connor ever landing a single knock. He thought about cleaning the place last night but. They’ve seen it already. And it would be too much trouble to maintain for the daily meals they are going to do. 

In Connor’s hand is a paper bag. He lifts it. “Breakfast.” 

“Thanks.” 

Connor takes out something that is foil-wrapped and hands it to Hank. On the foil is a giant H in permanent market. Connor gives one each to the kids then grabs his own. Hank offers Connor a travel mug with coffee. Connor does not quite smile but there is a slight tight-lipped approximation of one. Together, they head to the car, the kids unwrapping the foil as they go. Inside the car, Hank opens his own. It is an English muffin with a fried egg and sausage. He eats one-handed and drives. He drops off Cole and Jon at school and Connor at the library. 

The front of the precinct is the same as it was yesterday. People crowd and shout their questions. From the snippets he hears, the vigilante made another drop-off this morning. The reporters have labelled them as “The Hunter.” Hank shakes his head. What a ridiculous name. Shoving his way into work is going to be a part of his schedule now. It might as well. 

The moment he comes in, Fowler calls him to his office. Ben claps him on his back as he passes him. He shoots him an annoyed glare. Jake gives him two thumbs up and a grimace. Reed, the fucker, smiles and Chen raises her cup to him. He stomps his way through the bullpen to Fowler’s fishbowl of an office. 

Hank slumps in the chair in front of the desk. Fowler does not even speak as he pushes a pile of folders to him. Hank picks one up and thumbs through it. He skims at the first few before putting them back. As he suspected, the day, and probably the next few months, is going to be crap. 

“I’m assigning you as the lead for vigilante related cases. You will have support of course from the other officers.” Fowler continues, “I am not expecting you to personally solve these cases. Just deal with the vigilante.” 

Hank pretends to be willfully ignorant. “What, so we’re not going to look into these suspects they so helpfully left us?” 

“We are. It just won’t be your focus,” Fowler sighs. “The investigation into these cases will be split among the officers. I want you to check how trustworthy this vigilante is; if they are tampering with evidence; and, their goals and motivation.” 

“I would think you would want them off the streets.” 

“Hank. You and I both know we are… short-staffed.” 

“You can say that again,” Hank leans forward. “You want me to be a liaison?” 

In a warning tone, Fowler says, “Hank.” 

“Doing this is going to put me on the line,” Hank shrugs, “Least you can do is say what you want outright.” 

“Yes! I want you to work as a liaison. Keep them in line.” Fowler waves him off. “You’re dismissed.” 

“Gotcha.” Hank gets up from the chair and grabs the files. 

He heads to his desk first. Hank picks a file at random and starts to read. Better to have some more background before he does anything. He goes to the holding cell. There, he is stonewalled at every turn. All the suspects want a lawyer before talking. He is going to have to work late. Hank runs his fingers through his hair. Dinner is a no-go. He pulls out his phone to text Connor. 

_ >Staying late. Sorry. _

Hank taps his fingers as he waits for Connor’s response then chides himself for it. Connor isn’t going to respond right away. He goes back to his notes and casefiles in the meantime. His phone vibrates and Hank scrambles to pick it up. 

_ >It’s okay. We can walk. If you want, Cole can come with us. _

_ >Yea thanks. _

The day as a whole is unproductive and he stays past his normal hours like he predicted. Hopefully the work pays off and he can get out early the next day. He takes a break from work. He knows that his unofficial role as liaison is going to make him change shifts soon. He just would prefer if it’s a while yet. He will have to arrange for someone to watch Cole at night. A selfish part of him wants to ask Connor. But another part of him finds it odd. To trust Connor so easily and quickly. There is something beguiling about him that makes Hank want to trust him. He disregards the thought. Hank can figure everything out later when it becomes a more immediate problem. 

When he stays late, he stays late. It is well past Cole’s bedtime when he finally departs from the precinct. He pulls his coat a little tighter to act as a buffer against the cold autumnal winds. His car is parked far from the front of the precinct. On his walk, he sends Connor a text. 

_ >Leaving now. _

He stuffs his phone back into his pocket, not bothering to look for a reply. The windows are frosted. Hank enters his car and grabs the ice scraper. He turns on the heater while he is at it. He makes quick work of the ice and goes into the nice and toasty car. Hank starts the drive home. He checks his texts at a red light. 

_ >Cole is asleep with Jon. I will reheat dinner for you. _

Hanks sends a quick thanks to Connor before continuing to drive. Luckily the streets are mostly empty and thus, traffic is not too bad. In a familiar mirror to the morning, Connor opens the door before Hank can knock on it. Connor takes Hank’s wrist and pulls him inside. 

“You’re going to let the cold air in.” Connor closes the door behind him. 

They head into the kitchen and each take a seat. From what he has seen, the only room that is set up is the kitchen. 

“Shit you haven’t had the time to unpack yet?” Hank feels oddly guilty at the prospect. Has he been taking up so much of Connor’s time? Hank pokes at the food with his fork. 

“It’s okay. We didn’t have all that much in the first place.” Hank feels even worse at that. 

Connor picks up a quarter on the table. Unlike the tricks in the car, the ones he does at the table are more elaborate and reach higher in the air. 

He tilts his head. “You should eat before the food gets cold again.” 

“What’s with you and the cold?” Hank quickly stuffs a bite in his mouth. 

Connor shrugs and continues moving the quarter between his hands. Once finished with his food, Hank takes his plate and fork to the sink. He scrubs his own and then the pot and forks still in the sink. Hank realizes he crossed a line, but he cannot figure out where. It fills him with a sense of unease. He does not know how to fix it. 

So, he sticks with what he hopes is safe ground. “I should take Cole home now.” 

“You shouldn’t disrupt his sleep. He can stay.” Connor only speaks loud enough to be heard over the kitchen spray. 

“I can’t just leave him here.” Hank, likewise, tries to keep his voice down but is not as successful towards the end of his sentence. 

“You can sleep here too.” A hint of desperation strains and wraps around Connor’s voice. 

Hank does not dare to turn to Connor when he asks, “Where? You don’t have a couch.” 

“You can sleep on my bed.” Hank can feel the back of his neck heating up at Connor’s proclamation. He hopes that they haven’t woken up the boys. 

“I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” Hank almost shouts before remembering what time it is. 

“I sleep better on the floor.” Connor says it very nonchalantly. 

“Really?” He finally turns to look at Connor. 

“I’ve slept in weirder places. Besides, I have a sleeping bag. I can use that.” 

For a moment, that response and cool tone brings Hank to a stop. Sometimes he forgets that Connor and Jon are related because of how different they are. But somehow those short statements delivered quickly really brings their similarities to the front. Like they both want to give off a veneer to the world that they don’t care but a subtle desperation to reach out to others speaks otherwise. 

“Okay, okay. I’m going to feed Sumo first and then I’ll come back.” Hank finally acquiesces. 

A shifty look appears on Connor’s face. “I might have already fed and walked Sumo.” 

“What.” 

“Cole has his own set of keys?” Connor asks unsure. 

“Yeah you’re right.” Something about all this has Hank wanting to laugh. “I’ll just grab my stuff then.” 

“Can you bring Sumo too?” 

“I’m starting to think you just want me around for my dog.” 

“I wouldn’t want to lie to you Lieutenant.” 

~

Hank wakes up to an unfamiliar setting. The bed is smaller. The sheets a plain white. There are boxes that line the wall. No pictures hang on the room’s walls. It doesn’t take too long for him to remember that he stayed over at Connor’s place. The night before, he did not really get the chance to take in the room. It is as sparse as the living room. 

He groans and begins an adjusted morning routine. It’s Thursday – 2 more days to the hell week. Cole and Jon are already up and running around Sumo. In the kitchen, Connor stands at the stove, cooking an omelet. 

“Cole and Jon already ate.” Connor slides the omelet onto a plate. “What do you like in your omelet?” 

He shrugs. “I’m fine with whatever.” 

Connor nods, “You can eat that one then.” 

“Wasn’t that your omelet?” 

“I’m going to have to make another one anyway.” He winks at Hank. 

Hank hesitantly starts to eat the omelet. Connor has the tendency to give. His food, his time, his bed. Like it doesn’t matter. In the grand scheme of things, what Connor has done are small acts. Hank appreciates it all the same. Connor makes him want to do better. Connor makes him want to extend the same kindness as Connor has. Maybe that is why Hank trusts Connor so easily. He doesn’t even know Connor all that well. Only that he really likes dogs. 

After Hank brings Sumo home, there is a return to what has quickly become their normal mornings. The last two days of the work week go without a hitch in their routine. 

Hank does not make as much progress as he wants for the vigilante cases. The suspects got their lawyers and they are still extremely tight-lipped. It makes doing anything with the cases difficult because he has no leads or starting points to look into. Forensics came back empty so far on the notes and evidence that were left by the vigilante on the suspects. The only concrete thing he has is that there is a vigilante which gets him back to square fucking one. Hank tries to keep his frustration at work and not show it when he is with Connor and the boys. 

It is becoming increasingly likely that he has to take a different shift to get better leads soon. The only good thing is that Fowler has yet to push him to make the request. Yet he knows he can’t delay the inevitable. He finally puts in his request to change his shift. Fowler approves it. 

~

At noon on Saturday, Hank rings the doorbell at Connor’s house. Jon answers. “Connor is at work.” 

Jon starts to close the door, but Hank stops it. “Why are you at home alone?” 

“I didn’t want to go.” Jon gives him one of his infamous unimpressed stares. 

“You, me, and Cole. We’re going to the library.” 

“Fine.” Hank blinks in surprise at the lack of argument from the boy. Jon keeps the door open as he goes to grab something inside. He then locks the door. 

Hank did think this through. He did not realize that Connor works on the weekend. Nor did he anticipate the possibility of their routine needing to be carried over to the weekend either. Connor was probably trying to be considerate when he decided not going to him for a ride to work on an early Saturday morning. Hank frowns. He could have easily done it. Stop it. He’s overthinking. They pick up Cole and make their way to the library. 

They find Connor as soon as they walk-in. He is surrounded by children of varying ages. On the tables are popsicle sticks, pompoms, glitter, yarn, and glue. Parents sit with their children, assisting them on their crafts. Hank spots Luther and Alice towards the back tables. Connor looks up when they get closer. The corner of his lips lift. Hank awkwardly smiles in return. Cole waves at Connor then makes his way to Alice. Jon lingers. 

Hank is torn whether to follow Cole or to stay with Jon and Connor. He goes to Luther and Alice first. Alice is making a box with the popsicle sticks, gluing each layer stick by stick. Glitter shines in her ponytail. None of the glitter made it onto the box. Luther carefully attaches pompoms to the bottom of the box. The colors of the pompoms are seemingly chosen at random. 

Luther nods at him in acknowledgement. 

“Hello Mr. Anderson.” Alice greets him. “Hi Cole!” 

“Hey Alice,” Cole interrupts. “What you got there?” 

He peers over Luther’s shoulder, tippy-toeing to see. Luther moves, allowing Cole a better view. Hank just watches. The Williams are pretty good neighbors. Hank never really got to know them all that well. Cole and Alice have had a few classes together the past few years. The range of Hank’s interactions with them tends to be when he and Luther are chaperones for field trips. 

“It’s going to be a treasure chest!” Alice proudly proclaims. “I got a spot to bury it too.” 

“What are you going to put in it?” 

“This.” She pulls out a small animal figure from her pocket. It is a four-legged animal painted orange. Hank assumes it is a fox. 

“Can I see?” Cole makes a grabby motion. 

“Okay.” She gingerly places it in his hands. Cole examines the figurine then returns it to her. 

“That’s cool.” Cole says. She nods in response and goes back to her singular focus of completing her treasure chest. 

He and Cole then go to Connor’s side. Jon and Connor are having a hushed conversation that is not quite an argument but one that stops abruptly with their appearance. 

“So, whacha doing here?” Hank asks. He hopes it’s a neutral enough question and he tries to ignore his need to poke his nose where it shouldn’t be. Whatever they were speaking about isn’t any of his business. 

Connor’s brows rise at his question. Hank feels the need to defend himself, but before he could, Connor says, “I think I should be asking you that. But this Saturday is a craft day.” 

“This every Saturday?” 

“Every other Saturday,” Jon pipes up. “It switches with story time.” 

“So, you work Saturdays?” 

Jon scowls. “I could have told you that.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Cole pokes Jon’s cheek. 

“It was never relevant.” Jon crosses his arms. 

“How would you know?” Cole pouts. “What if I wanted to make stuff with Connor?” 

Jon’s lips twist. “That’s inane.” 

“Jon stop.” Connor ruffles Jon’s hair and Jon bats at his hands. He brings the conversation back around to the topic of his schedule, “Yes, I work Saturday. I work half shifts on Friday and Saturday.” 

Hank frowns. “You stayed late on Friday?” 

“I would have anyway for Jon.” Connor reiterates. “Waiting for Cole is no trouble.” 

Talking with Connor always throws him for a loop. He never quite knows what to say sometimes. Hank decides to change subject somewhat. “What time do you get out of work?” 

Connor blushes. “My shift ended at 12.” 

“That… was an hour ago.” 

“I know” is muffled in Connor’s hands. He raises his face from his hands. “I liked Saturday shift more than I expected.” 

“Can I pull you away to go grocery shopping?” Hank stuffs his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh! Okay. Yeah, sure.” Connor gets up from his chair. 

They head to the car. Hank probably missed his chance earlier, but he decides to offer still: “I can drop you off on Saturdays you know.” 

“No thank you, but I won’t mind if you give me a ride after work. We can go to the grocery store together then.” Connor says as he leans over the car’s roof. 

“Sure.” Hank slides into the car. “If that’s what you want.” 

The grocery store Hank brings them to is small. It is more of a convenience store, but it is close to the library. Connor is curious as he walks through each aisle. He picks items up and reads the descriptions on the back. Hank isn’t too sure what Connor is looking for, so he lets him be. Cole and Jon wander together, Jon supposedly forgiven for not telling Cole about craft Saturdays. Hank never realized that Cole would have been interested. Hank ensures that they don’t get in trouble, staying a few feet behind them. 

Jon lifts a stuffed animal. He examines it. The toy is a stylized cow. It is a round ball with stubby little legs and colored a classic black and white. The cow is little bit bigger than the palm of Jon’s hand. Cole picks a stuffed animal up as well, beside him. His is a pig that is a neon pink. There is a pattern of splattered mud on the pig. 

“This cow is not accurate.” Jon’s hands tighten around the toy. 

Cole puts the pig back, “Course not! It’s a toy. For like play and stuff. It’d be weird if they were realistic.” He picks up a chicken next and tosses it between his hands. “Haven’t you ever seen one before?” 

Jon stares at the cow. “It’s…” He trails off, hesitant to continue. “It’s different than the pillows.” 

Cole returns the chicken to its proper spot. Jon does the same, but his hand lingers on the toy. Hank thinks of Connor’s spartan home, where there are only pillows as furniture in the living room. Where there are no pictures up and everything is kept in boxes. He knows that the sparse living style comes with new house ownership but. Something is always slightly off with them. He can’t quite put his finger on it. 

“C’mon. I’ll buy you that.” 

Jon’s eyes widen. He grabs the toy and cradles it to his chest. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Really.” Hank takes a chance and ruffles the kid’s hair. He doesn’t even fidget, still looking at him in amazement. He starts to get a bit uncomfortable. It’s such a small thing but it seemed to thaw Jon. Hank wants to know Connor’s and Jon’s past. 

They search for Connor. Cole starts up conversation. Hank must be raising his kid right because somehow, he picked up on Hank’s burning curiosity. “Did you know Jon’s never seen a Disney movie?” 

“They serve no functional purpose from my understanding of what Cole has told me,” for once, he fidgets like Connor does, “but I do admit, I am intrigued.” 

“Fine, I’ll queue one up when we get home.” 

“Can we do movie nights?” Cole pulls on Hank’s jacket sleeve. “We gotta show all of them!” 

“We’ll see, kid.” 

Cole sticks his tongue out in response. Jon watches in silence, embracing the stuffed toy still. They find Connor in the frozen food aisle, comparing two bags of frozen vegetables. The basket on his arm is close to filled. 

Connor goes to them. “Do you prefer corn or peas?” 

“Corn,” Hank says. 

“Peas!” Cole pipes up at the same time. 

They look at each other as Connor puts the bag of corn back and the peas in his basket. He goes to the counter to pay. Hank pulls out his wallet and slaps his credit card down on the tabletop. “Remember, I pay.” 

Connor rolls his eyes but lets the cashier accept the credit card. Jon pushes his cow with a finger onto the counter. Connor tilts his head. “What’s this?” 

“Jon liked it,” he shrugs, “so I’m getting it for him.” 

“That’s,” he avoids eye contact with Hank, “awfully kind of you.” 

Connor packs the groceries into reusable bags. Hank has no idea where he got them. He assists as well. Jon slides his hand in to grab his cow. 

“Seems like something the kid can appreciate,” Hank says. 

“The kid,” Jon glares at them, “is right here.” 

They go to the car. It occurs to him then, that he never asked Connor about his thoughts about coming over for watching a Disney marathon. Might as well now. “Cole found out Jon never watched Disney movies. He wants to watch some of them tonight.” 

“I have never seen one either,” Connor loads the groceries into the trunk of the car, “I always wondered about them.” 

Hank bites his tongue from blurting out any invasive questions. Instead he settles for, “Well you’re in luck tonight.” 

Connor frowns. “Should I have bought popcorn?” 

“Nah, it’s fine,” he pulls the seatbelt across his body. “We probably have some microwavable popcorn at home.” 

Midway through the drive, Hank nervously tightens his grip at the wheel. “Hey Connor?” 

“Yes?” Hank can almost imagine Connor tilting his head at this point. 

“I’m going to have to change night shift. I can still do the carpool and stuff,” Hank bites his lip, “but I need someone to watch Cole at night.” 

“I can do most nights. But sometimes I won’t be home.” His voice trails off and he hums. Hank glances at him and sees Connor tapping his fingers on his thigh. 

Hank thinks back to earlier in the day with Jon opening the door. “You leave him home alone?” 

“He can take care of himself,” Connor is tentative, as if he realizes that maybe it wasn’t a great idea to admit that. He begins to ramble a bit. “If it makes you feel better, I can ask a friend to watch Jon when I’m out? And he can watch Cole too. But you might not be comfortable with someone you don’t know in your house…”

Connor is throwing ideas based on the assumption of how dinner is at Hank’s house. Which is a fair assumption since Connor has yet to get any more furniture from what Hank has seen. 

His choices for a babysitter are limited. Fowler is a stretch. He doesn’t want to bother the Wilsons, especially with Matt’s injury. Ben is out of the question. He’s a good guy but a horrible babysitter. The less said about the incident last year, the better. If he hires a nanny service, a stranger will come to his home anyway. What a goddamn mess. 

“Sleepover! Sleepover! Sleepover!” Cole chants. 

Fuck it. “You know what? Sure,” he exhales, “just, tell me when it’s not gonna be you.” 

“Of course, Hank.”

They all stumble into the Anderson home. Sumo barrels into Connor. Connor laughs as he pets Sumo. Cole runs to the television and sets it up. Jon meanders behind him, stepping over Cole’s toys. Hank goes to put away the groceries. He picks up the laundry to make room for all of them to sit comfortably. He then makes some popcorn. 

The first movie Cole puts on is Robin Hood. Cole and Jon sit on the floor, while Hank and Connor sit next to each other on the couch. The bowl of popcorn is between Cole and Jon. Sumo settles near Connor’s feet. Hank is very aware of the space between them. The movie is a lot shorter than most modern movies. Jon does not react much to the movie, not even when Robin Hood steals the jewels straight from Prince John’s hand. That usually gets a laugh from Cole. 

After the movie, Connor gets up to prepare dinner. “Cole, Jon, want to help with dinner?” 

“What’s for dinner?” Cole asks. 

“I’m thinking mac ‘n’ cheese with peas and shrimp,” he pulls out the necessary ingredients and tools. “You and Jon can grate the cheese. Hank can you deal with the shrimp?” 

Hank agrees and begins to devein the shrimp. Once finished, he begins to stir-fry the shrimp. Connor cooks the pasta and peas while Jon and Cole shred cheese. Hank and Connor move around each other as they cook their respective parts. Connor drains the pasta. The boys dump the cheese in, Connor the milk and peas, and Hank the shrimp. He mixes it all together. Connor grinds pepper into the mixture. Once satisfied, he pours bread crumbs on top and puts it in the oven to bake. Cole and Jon meanwhile decide on the next film to watch. In no time at all, the food is ready. 

They bring the food out and eat. The boys chose The Rescuers. Sometimes Hank is confused at Cole’s preference for Disney movies. Cole is showing his favorites but, in the order they were released. Hank is a bit surprised he skipped over The Aristocats. He knows that Cole is alright with the princess movies, he probably just wants one of his favorites to be Connor’s or Jon’s as well. 

The Rescuers is not Connor’s favorite. He nods off. His head falls on Hank’s shoulder. Hank does his best not to move. Cole peers at them. Jon balefully stares at them. Nonetheless, they clean up and go quietly to prepare for bed. Hank reaches out, lightly rubbing the scar on Connor’s temple. It is a strange shape and place for a scar. Connor leans into his touch. Hank panics, moves his hand away, and attempts to softly nudge Connor awake with his elbow. 

“Up and at ‘em. You’re going wanna brush up.” Hank elbows him slightly harder. 

Connor groans, “I don’t have a brush here.” 

“I’ll get you one.” Hank gets up from the couch and Connor collapses on the side. 

“Come back.” Connor reaches out half-heartedly, trying to grab at Hank. “Comfy.” 

“Come on you, big lug,” Hank pulls Connor up. “You’re almost as bad as Sumo.” 

“Sumo is a good boy.” 

Connor stumbles a bit and falls forward into Hank’s chest. Hank shoves him away an arm’s length and turns him around. He pushes Connor into the bathroom, Connor dragging his feet there. He situates Connor against the bathroom door and digs into the drawers to look for an extra toothbrush. Cole’s neon green toothbrush shares a cup with what he assumes to be Jon’s light blue toothbrush. He hopes that it is not the last extra toothbrush. 

He finds a toothbrush and hands it to Connor. Connor doesn’t quite smile but he does something with his mouth to show his thanks. Looks like a grimace. Connor isn’t quite used to smiling. It leaves Hank wondering about that first day they met, when Connor turned an easy smile at him. Which was last Saturday. The ridiculousness of the situation catches up to him. God he really is doing a speed run with this… this whatever this is with Connor. 

“You can sleep on my bed,” Hank says. “I can sleep on the couch.” 

Connor takes the toothbrush out of his mouth. “Sumo is sleeping on the couch.” 

“He better not.” Hank puts his hands on his hips. 

Connor stares. 

“What do you suggest then?” 

He pretends to think a bit before proposing. “We can share the bed.” 

Hank should have really seen that coming. But that wouldn’t change his answer. “No.” 

“Why not?” Connor pokes and prods at it. “Your bed is big enough for the both of us.” 

He avoids the urge to sigh. How can someone who just woke up be this argumentative? Who the fuck is he kidding? He is fucking weak. “Because that would be inappropriate.” 

“How is it inappropriate?” 

“Fine,” Hank throws his hands up. He doesn’t want to explain to Connor, to continue this conversation. He gives up. “You win.” 

Hank leaves to check on the boys. He enters Cole’s room. He checks on the boys. They share Cole’s bed. Luckily there is enough room for them both. Cole had relocated most of his stuffed animals to the floor next to the bed. Some even had the honor of the bedside table. Tucked in with Jon is the cow. Cole is curled around some dog plush they had won at an arcade once. Hank turns off the light. 

~

Having a shift change is strange, especially when it goes from a day shift to a night one. Things change but not as much as he thought they would. Connor still makes breakfast foods in the mornings and dinner at night. The vigilante still continues their drop of suspects and tips. No one still has yet to see them. Hank still drives the boys and Connor to school and work and pick them up. It’s just that things flip. Dinner becomes the first meal of the day for him and picking them up becomes the start of the day. 

The biggest change is that Connor and Jon stay at his home while he is at work. They rarely stay at their own home, even on the weekends. He has a twinge of guilt that they never really settle into their own house. If anything, many of Connor and Jon’s things end up at his place. 

The first few weeks of the arrangement, Connor does not mention needing his friend to takeover and watch the boys. 

Cole spends even more time in the library, which is impressive considering how often he was there after school before this arrangement. Despite Connor’s protests, Hank still takes him to work Saturday. Cole loves the Saturday morning activities at the library. Jon reluctantly participates, but Cole’s enthusiasm is contagious. Their art ends up decorating the walls and shelves at home. Hank, admittedly, usually sleeps in one of the armchairs at the library. 

His son loves craft Saturday and story time. Hank wonders how much he missed of his son’s interests. He always assumed that Cole had moved away from such things with growing up. He thinks Cole does not ask for things as much as other kids do, not including Jon. It’s probably why he is caught off guard one Thursday morning. 

“Dad, can Jon teach me how to fight?” 

“What.” Stalling he asks, “Wouldn’t you want a professional teacher or something?” 

“It’ll be cheaper. And Connor can watch over us! Please Dad.” Cole stretches the e and uses Dad as punctuation. 

That is when Jon speaks up. “I suggested it Mr. Anderson. I thought it would be…fun.” Hank can imagine that it physically pained Jon to say that. 

“It’ll be perfectly safe, Hank.” Shit. Connor too? “I will stop them before it gets out of control.” 

One hand, he should definitely encourage his kid’s interests. Other hand. What the ever-loving fuck. He wants to assume they’ll be play-fighting. Except. He remembers Cole mentioning at some point that Jon knows martial arts. 

“Please?” Cole does not quite whine but it is a close thing. “I really want to learn.” 

“Okay, okay.” Why is he so weak? He slides a hand over half his face. “Only when Connor is supervising.” 

“Yes!” Cole hits the roof the car with his fist. “Ow.” 

Connor pats him on his shoulder. 

~

The past two weeks, Connor finally has his friend babysit the kids once or twice a week. He stays for diner and does not go before Hank does. Hank never sees the friend because the friend comes later in the night and leaves before he returns. Connor never says where he goes or what he does, and Hank never asks him. He does, however have no problem with asking Cole about the friend, during a rare time they are alone. 

They are in the car, waiting for Jon and Connor to come out. Cole leans against the front passenger seat, resting his head on his hands. 

“What do you think of Connor’s friend?” Hank tries not to show his fretting. “Is he okay?” 

Cole blows a raspberry. “He reminds me of Connor. Only that he acts like Jon did before.” 

Jon has not really changed since Hank first met him. There was a flash of… something after the cow. He is a bit softer but overall? Hank does not know. But then again, Cole has more interactions with the kid than he does. When Hank thinks of the kid they met, he thinks cold. It is a harsh descriptor. More awkward and shy probably fits better. 

Before spiraling any further, he asks, “What do you mean?” 

“He’s uncomfortable with people,” he shrugs, rolling his head to the other side, “like Jon was. And he’s lonely.” 

The conversation ends with Connor and Jon entering the car. 

~

Cole has been wanting to show Connor and Jon his favorite park. That is why Hank takes them, early one Sunday morning. Cole and Jon walk Sumo around the premises. Hank sits at a bench with Connor by his side. 

Connor moves before Hank even realizes what is happening. He launches to his feet, dodging the flailing arm and grabbing it. He hits the elbow inward and pulls the assailant forward to redirect the attack. Connor pins the man down. He doesn’t even break a sweat. It all happens in a matter of seconds. 

Jon rushes over, Cole close behind with Sumo. Hank stands and takes hold of Jon and Cole’s shoulder before they can get any closer. People around them are on their phones, calling 911. 

“What the f –“ Hank self-corrects, “What was that?” 

“Let me go!” The attacker struggles under Connor. “That bastard put away my brother!” 

Connor’s grip never wavers during the wait. Hank notices a rip in Connor’s coat. He doesn’t dare to move closer to examine it until the first responders arrive. The police take over and apprehend the man. The police take statements from the people present. Connor waves off the EMT. 

When things settle, Hank shepherds them to the car. The boys are silent in the backseat. He pulls out his first-aid kit from the glovebox and gestures for Connor’s arm. Connor slides his arm out of his coat. Hank gently grasps it as he examines it. Red stains Connor’s shirt sleeve. There is a graze at his arm that oozes slowly with blood. 

“You should have let the EMT look at your arm.” Hank scowls. 

“It’s just a scratch,” is the cavalier response he gets. 

“You don’t know where that man’s knife has been,” he admonishes. 

“It’ll be fine. You can take care of it.” The corners of his mouth edge up. “I trust you will do well.” 

Hank gives him a flat look. He rolls up Connor’s sleeve. He reaches over and grabs a bottle of water in the cup holder. Hank pours water on a handkerchief and dabs it on Connor’s cut. Connor shivers. 

“It would have been better if you let an EMT do their job.” 

Connor gives him a one-sided shrug. 

Hank opens the first-aid kit and gets the antibiotic ointment. He put the ointment on a gauze and pastes it on the wound. Hank then wraps a bandage around his arm. 

“There.” Hank pats his arm. 

“Thank you.” Connor leans forward. 

Hank scrambles to get up, but Connor grabs his wrist and keeps him in place. Off-balance, Hank almost falls into Connor’s lap. 

“Can I kiss you?” Connor asks, his voice not more than a whisper. 

“You sure that’s what you want?” Hank nervously laughs. 

“I would not be asking if it did not want to.” He says defiantly as he pouts. 

Hank puts a hand to Connor’s cheek. Connor tilting into his touch and tugging him closer. Their lips meet, a chaste press, a showing of interest. 

Jon groans. Cole whoops. Sumo barks. 

Hank can feel Connor’s smile upon his lips. He moves back to look. The smile is something different, kinder, and true. A precious gift to be treasured, even more so than the kiss. 

~

It is four months after he is assigned the vigilante case before anything happens. The case takes the backburner because there were no further developments. The shift change had been futile so far. 

Matt didn’t have much of a description due to the whole falling unconscious thing soon after being shot. He only saw that the vigilante was tall and slim. It’s not much to go on but it is a lot more than what they have been getting from the suspects the vigilante gives them. 

Hank doesn’t even realize who he is seeing at first. He is picking up a midnight lunch when he passes the sideroad. Like Matt said, the person Hank sees is tall. They’re only slim if someone compares them to Hank. In their hands, they hold the collar of a whimpering man. They knock the man out in one efficient movement and turn to him. They move closer, dragging the body with them. 

“Hello,” his voice is raspy and recognizable. It immediately sets Hank on edge. Hank’s eyes go to the man’s temple. The whole top half of the man’s face is hidden. 

“Hunter?” Hank avoids the urge to move for his gun. To throw accusations. 

“I suppose.” The smile that stretches across his lips is sardonic. His teeth sharp and gleaming like a predator who has cornered his prey. “And you must be Lieutenant Anderson.” 

His steps are silent despite the wet ground. Hank takes a step back. The vigilante moves with easy confidence. He is both familiar and not. He tilts his head. He is a warped reflection of – someone Hank does not dare name, even in the privacy of his own mind. There is something almost wolf-like about him. 

“No need to be afraid,” so says the wolf. He drops the body to the ground, “As long as you’re not doing anything wrong of course.” 

“You’re not exactly reassuring.” 

Hunter barks out a laugh, a harsh sound that echoes in the night like a howl. “Guess not.” He kneels, hand-cuffing the unconscious man and lifting him over his shoulder. He walks away. 

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you.” Hank shouts as he follows. 

“Of course. I’m taking you to the man’s car.” He shifts, adjusting his hold on the man. 

If there was one thing that can be said about Hunter, he does what he says. He takes Hank to a parking garage, several blocks away. Hank tries to ask him questions but all he gets is silence. He stuffs his hands in his pockets in annoyance. They go through the stairs until they reach the third floor. 

“Here we are.” His gloved hand knocks the window of a black SUV. 

Hank turns on his phone’s flashlight and peers into the car. At a cursory glance, there is nothing interesting. But then the light reflects a glint of red. He angles his phone some more. Red Ice. 

“How did you know about this?” Hank is suspicious. The van is rather far from where he found the vigilante after all. 

“Well, I guess the reporters got something right. I hunt.” Hank can’t even laugh at the damn corniness of the line. He watches as Hunter lowers the man to the ground. Hunter waves as he leaves. Hank lets him go and calls in the SUV and suspect, unnerved. 

He shakes his head. Hunter can’t be Connor. He tries to soothe himself with the thought that Connor is at home with the boys and Sumo. But Hank can’t ignore the nagging similarity of Hunter. 

Shit. 


End file.
